Waterbury evening Democrat., 1887-12-27
A LONG SLUMBER.

were richer than the Trelawneys. All ad- mitted that we were just and even generous in our dealings with others; but we had no intimate friends, and kept apart from our neighbors. We neither made visits nor re- ceived visitors. No invited guest ever crossed our threshold, and those who came on busi- ness were courteously bowed out when their business was concluded. A meal in the kitchen, and sometimes a trife of money, was given to a mendicant; but, the meal eaten, and the money taken, the recipient was unceremoniously turned out. Our serv- ants had been with us from their childhood i; they served us we'll and faithfully; they re- ceived good wages; their duties were light; they had kind treatment; their children were born and reared upon the place; when super annuated, their wages went on until they died: but they formed no attachment to us, nor we to them. We used our fortune liber- ally for public purposes, but grew richer every year, for we never lived up to half our income, and with every generation the Ire 1awney property increased in extent, while it shared the general appreciation of value.
 Tho Trelawneys were longed lived, few dying young But there were few of them born. For six generations, with one eXcep- tion, but one child followed each marriage, and that was always a son. The exception was with my great-great-grandfat who had a brother, two years younger than him. self, named John. His birth was set down in the family record as occurring in 1773, but what struck me as singular was the absence of any mention of the year of his death He seemed to have disappeared, and died proba- bly, in some place and at some time unknown. For some reason or other, a large amount of personal property, supposed to have been his, was held in trust by my great-grandfather, and that trust had been renewed regularly from father to son. l once asked my father about this missing great-granduncle. A deeper gloom than usual overcast his face at my question. "You will know all about it some day." was his reply; and then he went oa to speak of something else.
 Certainly both my father and grandfather worc troubled and gloomy look on their faces They were prey to settled melan- choly never saw them smile. Every one noted their careworn expression; but none knew why.
 There was @ mystery. Next to the library, ill the northern wing, was a largo chamber, as laid down in the architects plan of cent ury before. Its shutters were always kept closed, and light was seen there all night long. In the rest of the house gas had been introduced from small generator on the premises. This solitary lamp was filled and trimmed by my father or grandfather, oil being kept in the library for the purpose. No ono but they was allowed to enter the cham hcr, which was kept locked and each carried a key. And three times day, no matter whether they had brealfasted, dined or SUD- ped, or not, there was slight reflection, not enough for more than one, brought to the library It was either milk or bouillon-- something liquid. They partook of it in secret, tho library door being locked until tho repast endel And another remarkable fact was observed, my father and grand father never went abroad together. If one went out, the other remained at home, as though to guard the secret of the chamber.
 Concerning this mystery there was much discussion among the servants. It was theme of never ending interest. But as either boy or man, when happened among them it was not touched, and l only inferred their talk by the fact that when I appeared the conversation was hushed. It was more talked about after my mothers death. The idea somehow got abroad that the chamber was a storchouse of treasure. This led to the visit of burglars. But my grandfather, who always slept in the library, having a cabinet bedstead there, shot one of the burg lars, and the other escaped After that there were no attempts of the kind.
 So grew up, often wondering about, but never knowing, the secrets of the closed room Unlike the rest, I went abroad a deal, and, on my return from the university, travelled in this country and Europe, in which mode of amusing myself I was en- couraged. I had an ample allowance of money, owned fast horse, kept yacht, and some other things not quite so innocent, until I exhausted the resources of a mild dissipa- tion. Suddenly my grandfather died, and was called home.
 I found my father looking more gloomy than ever. Between him and my grandfather there had always existed an intimacy more like that of brothers than that between father and son. He asked me into the library as soon as came, locked the door and bade mo be seated Then he said:
 "Your grandfather's death makes it neces- sary to impart to you ghastly secret, which, through precaution, should be kept by two. You have looked over our family record?" nodded. ''You remember, then, there is no account of the death of your great-grand- uncle John, who mysteriously disappeared eighty years since. The reason is that he never died at all He still lives, if his condi- tion may be considered life"
 He arose, and, taking a key from his pocket, opened the door of the great room and entered, bidding mo follow. The cham Der was long and lofty The floor, which had once been waxed and polished, had evidently been neglected, and bore on it neither carpet nor rug There were half dozen of heavy, old fashioned chairs, an old fashioned table ornamented with marquetry and heavily curtained bedstcad. My father threw aside tho bed curtains and pointed to form upon tho bed.
 At first thought it was the wax figure of a very old man, but second glance showed ! mo that it breathed The eyes were closed the face wrinkled and pallid It seemed less l like ono asleep than as a man whose anlma
 tion was nearly suspended. The features, ir | spite of the deep wrinkles, and the fact thai
 tho lower part of the face was hidden by z long whito beard, were those of tho Trelaw | neys-all of whom had marked and peculiar faces supposed that looked inquiry, fol
 my father replied to my thoughts, though
 had said nothing.
 ssThis has been the secret curse of th'
 family for eighty years, and will continue
 until that poor old frame wears out. Cotus | back to tho library and l will tell you all."
 With the evidence before me, and the fac
 that it was told by my father, whose truth
 fulness no on could doubt, was forced tl credit the story Thus it was.
 l Guy and John had been very much attached | t0 each other and yyhnn Guv ,orriox, Tol,r